The Tenth Walker
by geekoffury
Summary: Well, this is my first fan-fic, and I've experienced some technical difficulties. I'm afraid humor is not my forte, but oh well. This story gives a twist on the classic Mary Sue and LOTR. It deviates some from the book. If reviewing,constructive crit plz.
1. The Milkman Might Want to Join, Too

**I don't own anyone or anything in this story (except maybe Kelly). **

Chapter 1: The Milkman Might Want To Join the Fellowship, Too

Frodo stood at the center of the Council of Elrond, marveling at how far he had come since he had first left the Shire as a ripple of pride and fear rolled across his spine. He had only intended to relieve himself of the burdensome ring when he had set out, and yet now here he was, eight companions-- some of tremendous importance, it would appear-- standing at his back, and about to go on a quest that would determine the fate of Middle Earth! And here he was, the centerpiece of it all, a mere Hobbit fresh out of his quaint, absurdly comfortable homeland! Was it him, or was it getting hot out? He tugged uncomfortably at the neck of his vest, breathing heavily, then ceased upon becoming aware that everyone was staring at him. He gave a sheepish smile, and quickly clasped his hands behind his back. Elrond blinked, cleared his throat, and continued what he was saying: "The nine of you shall be the Fellowship of the Ri—"

"Ahem! Excuse me, sir?" someone interrupted somewhat nervously.

"WHAT?" Elrond practically screamed, his eyes popping out of his skull. "What could you possibly have to say that would necessitate ruining my dramatic climax?! Stand up!"

And so the speaker stood. It was an elf, Frodo noted with interest, an oddly brawny female elf with gray eyes and pale, less-than-lustrous blond hair. Her voice was a bit harsh and loud when she said, "I would like to join the Fellowship, too, sir. As a representative of, er, elf women. Please? Pretty please with sugar and candy and cherries and dead hyenas and pickles and industrial grade titanium on top?""

Elrond squinted at her, trying to remember if he had ever seen her before. "Who _are _you?" he asked finally, unable to recall her.

"Umm… Kelithelia Moongrace, sir, Princess of the, uh, Silverglade Clan."

"I've never heard of the Silverglade Clan."

"I would expect not, sir. We live in the farthest reaches of the, erm, Mirkwood, sir, and we're a very secretive group," she responded.

Frodo was practically laughing by this point. It was incredibly obvious that this very odd elf woman was lying like crazy. Elrond didn't even know her, hadn't even heard the "Silverglade Clan". Frodo didn't understand what her motives for joining the Fellowship could possibly be, but even to him it was plain there was no chance she would become part of the Fellowship. After all, what complete and utter moron would send such a strange unknown person on such a vital adventure?

"Okay, then, Kelithelia Moongrace, Princess of the Silverglade Clan of the Elves of Mirkwood, I suppose you can come."

Frodo's jaw dropped open and his eye developed a terrible twitch. Was Elrond off his rocker? Was even now some awful disease attacking the elf-lord's befuddled brain? It had been something of a warning sign, Frodo believed now, when Elrond had allowed Pippin to join. And now this. At least this new companion was an elf woman and not some heavily tattooed man the size of an Oliphaunt with a disagreeable temper.

Even with these comforting thoughts in mind, it occurred to Frodo that he might want to take up religion at this moment. Something about the woman just wasn't right. He peered closer at her. Oh, no, he thought, did I just see one of her eyeballs slide in the other direction? He looked over at the other eight companions to see how they were taking the news.

Gandalf was smiling blandly while he quietly scrutinized the newcomer's features. Aragorn's eyebrows were cocked politely in an expression of moderate surprise. Boromir's face was screwed up as he attempted to comprehend what was happening. As Frodo watched, Boromir mouthed, "Wait, what?" Legolas had a frozen grin on an unreadable expression. Gimli had a hand on his hip and was stroking his beard (dwarves always do in times of serious contemplation). None of the other hobbits were paying attention.

In honesty, Aragorn and Legolas were terrified. For they had heard whispers… dreadful whispers… of Aragorns and Legolases of alternate universes who were doomed to be forced to live and –goodness forbid—fall in love with one of Them. One of Those whose name goes unspoken but lurks in the darkest, most fearful depths of the heart, a wretched thing that threatens to consume all "hot" male characters.

"Now go away, the lot of you," said Elrond (bringing Legolas and Aragorn thankfully back to reality). "I've spent quite enough time explaining this crap, and _Oprah_ is on. Shoo."

"You know," said one of the elves, "It's turned out that a lot of Oprah's medical advise isn't worth squat."

"I don't care! Just leave already!"

The Council scrambled away.


	2. The Interregation

**Chapter 2: The Interrogation **

Once everyone in the Fellowship was finished packing and Frodo was finished being creeped out by Bilbo, they all met outside Rivendell.

"Man," said Kelithelia, oblivious to the fact that everyone was gazing at her cautiously "Rivendell is really pretty fruity."

"Hey! I grew up here!" snarled Aragorn.

"Everyone sings songs and eats delicate food and sips wine and plays the harp," Kelithilia pointed out. "What is that if not fruity?"

Aragorn conceded the point.

And with that they headed out.

While they were on the road, Gandalf noted that Kelithilia did not seem to have a weapon- armor and cloak, but not a blade to be seen. "Kelithelia," he called. No one responded. "Kelithelia?"

Still nothing. "Kelithilia!" he shouted. Kelithilia turned about.

"I don't see this Kelithilia person, Gandalf. Maybe you should look around for her or something."

"But _you're _Kelithilia, right?"

"Uh, yeah, of course," the now-weirder-than-weird elf stammered.

"Is Kelithilia Moongrace really your name?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Gandalf probed, suspicious.

She hesitated, then muttered, "Yeah."

Gandalf glared down his rather over-sized proboscis at the elf woman and raised an eyebrow. "Truly?"

"Nope," she admitted uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot, for everyone hates to be stared down at from an oversized proboscis. "I lied."

"Does the Silverglade Clan really exist?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"What is your real name, then?"

"Kelly. Just Kelly, no extensions to make it sound mystical."

Gandalf was now trying to decide whether to fry the elf where she stood or delve a bit deeper into a quite frankly rather interesting matter. He chose the latter. "No surname?" he questioned.

"Yes, now that you mention it. It's Dungflinger."

"Come again? You sort of whispered it."

"Dungflinger."

"Sorry?"

"_Dungflinger_."

"Eh?" Gandalf was having trouble grasping the fact that any elf could have the name "Kelly Dungflinger."

"DUNGFLINGER!" screamed Kelly, making everyone jump.

"No need to yell it," scolded Gandalf, trying to hide his smile in his beard.

"So then, young Kelly, if you're not a Princess, then why were you invited to the Council of Elrond?"

"I wasn't invited. I wasn't even planning to attend it, it's just I got lost looking for a fast food joint."

"How could you possibly wind up in a secret council looking for a fast-food joint?"

"I was _really_ lost."

"Who are you, exactly?"

"Beats me."

"An inadequate answer, if I do say so myself," Gandalf said, giving her a doubtful look from under a furrowed brow.

"I know," Kelly sighed. "I'll tell you when I have a better answer."

"But how do you manage to feed yourself? Do you have any career at all?"

"Well... You know spiders? The big ones you find in Mirkwood and similar areas?"

"Yes."

"Their poison's really top-quality material. It sells quite well, though the enterprise of getting the stuff's a teeny bit dangerous, what with monstrous bugs the size of wolves and all. But that's what I do. And once upon a time," she cleared her throat, "I was well acquainted with the Shire."

"How so?"

"I crouched in the bushes and mugged unsuspecting Hobbits for edible items and valuables. And shoes. The last industry didn't go too well."

"WHAT!" cried everyone, drawing weapons and so riled that they forgot to add a question mark to their exclamation.

"Hobbits don't wear shoes, you see," said Kelly, woefully misinterpreting the other's reactions.

"We're angry that ya were mugg'n Hobbits," Gimli explained most helpfully, advancing slowly with his ax swinging murderously at the end of his arm.

"Oh. Yes. I see. I'm don't do that anymore, I swear!" said Kelly, holding her hands up before her in an attempt to hold at bay the angry mob.

It took approximately twenty-two minutes, six seconds and 35 milliseconds by Kelly's counting before all calmed and a desire to see her dead in the dust faded. Soon the Fellowship was plodding along, and Aragorn came up to Kelly's side, Frodo quietly eavesdropping behind them to see if they were plotting to take the Ring from him (yes, even at this point he is extremely paranoid).

"Have you any experience in the art of battle?"

"Yup."

"What weapon, lady?"

Kelly gave a grin and pulled out from under the gray folds of her cloak her weapon of choice. Not a sword, but a large, gleaming ax. "Good for chopping wood and goblins!" she smiled happily.

"Huzzah!" said Gimli, but no one paid attention.

"How skilled do you think you are?" Aragorn continued.

Kelly started to answer, but the stubbed her toe on a rock (an impressive feat when one takes in consideration the thickness of her boots) and promptly swore loudly and began hopping about on one leg, peppering the air with a plentiful barrage of colorful curses. The companions watched as back and forth she went, utterly bamboozled expressions upon their faces. After a time of this, Kelly fell and continued spewing earthy language while rolling about on the ground. Then abruptly she stopped, informed Aragorn that she was under the impression that she was "fairly professional", then sprang up and began whistling a merry tune as though she had not spent ten minutes swearing over a stubbed toe. This further contributed to the party's surety of her insanity and in honesty left Aragorn and Legolas breathing a little easier, for in no way has this manner of behavior yet been recorded in a Mary Sue.

And so there was some more walking (of course there was) and Boromir fell in behind Kelly to shoot his line of questioning.

"So, you're an elf."

"Actually, I'm an iguana. This is just a disguise."

Boromir pointedly ignored the lame remark and observed, "And you're a woman."

"So I've been told."

"That would suggest that you are one of—" he gulped, sweat beading his brow, "One of Them." He shuddered and put a little distance between himself and the female elf.

Kelly sucked in her breath, thinking to take offense, then thought better of it and muttered under her breath, "I'd better not be." She shot a glare at the Almighty Author.

"I don't think so…" quavered the Almighty Author. "I read one of the Sue stories, and I haven't been mangling the English language that badly. Have I?"

"Well, if you aren't a Mary Sue, then why the heck are you here?" Boromir asked, not believing Kelly in the slightest. "You know, Mary Sues are almost always Tenth Walkers."

"I'm tagging along on whim."

"Whim?! That's you're excuse?"

"Yup."

"And you lied your way to get here?"

"That's the general idea."

"Uh-oh," Boromir groaned, sure that this elf had lost at least a few of her marbles. Then idea occurred to him, and he perked up. "You know, you should tell Frodo to give me the Ring."

"Uh- huh," the elf said, eyes narrowing.


	3. The Coming

**Chapter 3: It Comes…**

It was a misty night (naturally). Trees rose in ghostly shapes (spoooooooooky) about the perimeter of the small clearing where the Fellowship had decided to settle until dawn. They were happily sitting by a fire, eating (Sam was stuffing his face) and watching Pippin chase Merry around with a carving knife. They were laughing at an amusingly close call on Merry's part when they heard the ominous crack of a twig being snapped underfoot. Aragorn and Kelly stood up, hands on weapons. The Fellowship went silent, and even Pippin halted and shrank back. Chills ran up their spines as they sensed the presence of some force of pure evil.

There was definitely something out there.

They held their breath, shivering. Legolas fought the desire to scream and flee. Aragorn gnawed at his lip, knuckles white upon his sword hilt. Kelly went into a crouch, axe ready at her shoulder, trying to see through the gloom. At length Boromir rose to his feet as well, sword gleaming in the firelight.

There were more footsteps, coming ever closer. Sheer terror rose in everyone's throats and the lot of them trembled violently. Kelly steeled herself a little and moved forward slowly, squinting in the gloom.

Then she saw it. She hopped back, axe falling to her side, a silent shriek contorting her lips.

"What? What is it?" hissed Aragorn, bracing himself.

Kelly Dungflinger had no voice to tell him, but she began to mouth "Mary—"

"MARY SUE!" screeched Boromir. His shout shook Kelly into action as everyone made a beeline for the tallest, sturdiest tree they could find. Kelly was the last to shimmy up its bark, but even she had disappeared in its branches by the time the Mary-Sue arrived.

She looked like, well, a Mary Sue. In other words, "beautiful" but poorly described. This particular specimen had blue eyes (duh) and black hair. Her stench was clearly defined. Her odor was that of ruined grammar and devastated punctuation, stagnating in perfume.

Frodo, to everyone's horror, started hyperventilating from fright and disgust. Sam, who was currently closest to him, tried to quiet him, but to no avail. His loud, irregular breathing continued, and the Mary Sue's head snapped toward the tree. She advanced. Gimli raised a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart.

"Oh Llllllleggy…," the Mary Sue called in that amazingly annoying sing-song voice. Legolas's eyes rolled up to the back of his head. Luckily, Gimli grabbed him as he began to topple from the branch they were clinging to.

He heard Boromir whisper, "I can't see the Mary Sue anymore…"

"Arrry…"

Aragorn convulsed a few times, his teeth chattering, nearly having a heart attack. For he felt something touch him. He turned his head with deliberate slowness, not wanting to see what he knew he would find.

There was the Mary Sue. Right beside him.

Aragorn loosed a choking wail that made the Fellowship's blood run cold. Boromir, on a branch not far away, spun about on the tree limb, eyes wide when he saw Aragorn's plight.

"JUMP! EVERYONE JUMP AND RUN!" he bellowed. As soon as he had finished yelling, he leapt to the ground, landing awkwardly but on his feet.

The air was soon thick with flying Fellowship members as they heeded Boromir's advice and made their escape (it was rather like watching a tree frog special on _Nature_). Aragorn managed to pull away from the Mary-Sue's death grip as she attempted to drag him in as a toad would a juicy fly and sprang into the air, to his freedom. He hit the ground running.

Now the entire Fellowship was out of the tree and hot on the heels of Gandalf, who, Frodo observed, despite his venerable age, could really leg it. It was a mad rush through the trees in a winding course that would end all the way to the foothills of the Caharadras.

Nothing like a little motivation to get you where you want to go.

****

"Did we lose her?" gasped Legolas, panting with his hands on his knees.

"We better have," coughed Aragorn, "or I'll have to kill myself. I can't run anymore, and death is preferable to such an end."

"Why not just kill the Mary Sue instead?" asked Kelly in a very hoarse voice. "You _can_ kill them, right?'

"I think so." Aragorn's face twitched. "I hope so."

"Aye, laddie." Gimli nodded solemnly. "Ye had a very close call there."

"Speaking of which, why did the entire Fellowship hide in the tree? The only ones who have any reason to fear the dreaded Mary Sues are really only me, Legolas, Boromir, and occasionally Frodo." Frodo puffed up his chest.

"Mary Sues give me a really bad rash," explained Kelly. She pulled up her sleeve. "See?" she said. Indeed, upon her forearm was a very nasty-looking rash of a strange purplish color. "Besides," she added, "Mary Sues are pretty darn aweful, and the _smell_!"

"They scared me!" squeaked Merry.

"They should, Meriadoc Brandybuck," Gandalf said gravely. "They are evil beings of a different world."

"What world, Gandalf?"

"The world of giggly preteen girls, a vile world of pink and elf princesses. Oh, yes, and some younger teenage girls produce Mary Sues too."

"It's just weird," growled the Almighty Author.

"Quit interrupting the story," said Kelly.

"I don't understand," complained Merry.

"You're not supposed to," Gandalf assured him. "Even the greatest scholars of our age have difficulty explaining the dreaded existence of the Mary Sues. It is far beyond your ken, as it is far beyond mine."

"Well," said Pippin brightly, "I know someone who might know!"

"Who?" asked Sam at the same time Kelly blurted, "No!"

"Yes,' Pippin said, nodding. "The Almighty Author!"

"Um, funny story there," the Author coughed. "I don't actually know. I have vague theories, but nothing too substantial."

"You must have some idea, or I probably wouldn't be here," snapped Kelly Dungflinger. "Just elaborate some, you twit!"

"Hey, watch it," threatened the Almighty Author. "I can send thunderbolts and Mary Sues and orcs down into your little story at will."

"Okay," said Gandalf, a little disturbed. "Um, Author, _do_ elaborate, if you could. Please."

"Alright. Mary Sues are, as you said, products of the imaginations of young girls. Somewhat similar, I must admit, to Kelly Dungflinger here, except Kelly's totally kick-butt and Mary Sues are completely pointless."

"Thanks," said Kelly.

"So these Mary Sues are something of avatars of the authors that can interact with the story, or, more importantly, the story's characters. The Mary Sues' purpose is to interact in a sex—"

"Okay, okay," said Legolas hurriedly. "We get the picture."

"Anyway," continued the Author, "these preteen girls I'm afraid cannot write, and sometimes they don't even read the books or pay attention to the movies. Mainly they're just attracted to the movie actors."

"That's pretty sad," said Legolas.

"And that, Meriadoc, is an explanation of the Mary Sue," said Gandalf cheerfully.

Merry inclined his head, then stated, "I think I'm going to have nightmares next time I sleep."

"It's okay, Merry," Boromir said. "It's only natural."

"We ought to set a watch," noted Aragorn. "I wish I could be sure that the Mary-Sue was gone, but I can't. Who's first?"

"Sam," said Frodo.

"Sam," said Gimli.

"Sam," said Pippin.

"Sam," said Merry.

"Sam," Sam wisely conceded.

Everyone else dropped off to an uneasy sleep.


	4. Slogging Through Snow! Hurray!

**I don't own anyone or anything except maybe Kelly.**

**Chapter 4: Slogging Through Snow! Hurray!**

The next day found the Fellowship wading though massive quantities of snow. Boromir, Aragorn, and Kelly found themselves serving as snow-plows for everyone except Legolas, who boastingly tap-danced atop the snow's surface.

"Damn you!" cried Kelly, shaking her fist at him. "I don't think that's even physically possible!"

"It's not," chirped Legolas, "but I'm allowed to bend the rules because I'm an elf! Suckers!"

He had himself a little laughing fit, pointing, until Kelly responded, "I am an elf, you moron!"

He stopped chuckling to stroke his chin. "That is pretty interesting," he admitted, "Though in the meantime you might want to cut down on the fast-food joints."

"I have high-energy work!" snarled Kelly.

"Whatever," Legolas said, rolling his eyes. On that note he pranced off to leave Kelly grumping through the snow with the men.

"It would be nice to do that," Aragorn said longingly. The other two had to agree, though there was a little murmuring of "pointy-eared sissy" in the background.

"I know how ter lift spirits!" cried Gimli from the back. "Let's begin a rousin' dwarven workin' song!"

"No!" the rest of the Fellowship hissed as loudly as they could without causing an avalanche. Gimli shut up and pouted for the rest of the hour.

So the snow-plowing people continued to do their job, with the hobbits, Gandalf, and Gimli in tow as Legolas allowed himself to become as irritating as poison ivy mincing around in circles about them. Kelly and Bormir were thinking about forming a pact to kill the male elf and split the plundered goods. Aragorn probably would have been fine with it, too.

"Hold!" called Legolas suddenly. The Fellowship halted. "Gandalf, I see a mass of storm clouds heading our way!"

"Keep going," said Gandalf, barely glancing at the cloud formation. "They're probably not going to get anywhere near us."

****

"We'll get the wizard for this," said Aragorn.

"Oh yes," agreed Boromir.

"Darn it!" yelped Kelly. "One of my eyes is frozen shut!"

"Brilliant, Gandalf. No, really, quite brilliant!" snapped Frodo, sarcasm hard in his voice as he dodged a falling mass of snow.

"Careful, teeny. You wouldn't want to be a pile of ashes, now would you?" Gandalf brandished his staff threateningly as his hat flew off.

"At least then I'd be warm," muttered Frodo in Sam's ear, out of Gandalf's hearing range.

"We must go on!" yelled Gandalf suddenly. "The White Wizard Saruman has obviously summoned these storm clouds to catch us by surprise and trap us, but we will not bend to his will!"

"Uh, Gandalf?" said Legolas. "I spotted those storm clouds _hours_ ago."

"Nonsense!" said Gandalf.

"So, do you want the staff or can I take it?" Kelly asked Aragorn.

"I already have dibs on it," said Boromir, shooting Gandalf a withering look.

"It's true," added Aragorn.

Now no one in the Fellowship was feeling at all that fond of Gandalf and were whispering strategies among themselves how to best take the wizard down. Feelings of resentment continued to brew in Legolas's direction, for he continued to have the easiest time of them all.

At long last, Gimli roared through the wind, "How 'bout we go through th' Mines o' Moria?"

"What?" Gandalf yelled back.

"Th' Mines o' Moria!"

"What about them?"

"We should go through 'em!"

"Go through what?"

"Th' Mines o' Moria!"

"What about them?"

"Yer just teasin' me now!" shrieked Gimli, nearly pulling out half his beard.

"Yes, yes I am!" smiled Gandalf, giggling.

"We really should kill the wizard and be done with it," Kelly sourly observed, again to the consent of her fellow snow-plows.

"Bu' really! We should!" shouted Gimli.

"Huh…I propose a group meeting!" yelled Gandalf.

"FINE!!!" shouted the rest of the ill-tempered group, promptly bringing an avalanche down on their heads.

Once they had everything sorted out again—which took a while—the huddled in a little group so that they wouldn't have to burst a lung trying to communicate with each other against the howl of the wind.

"I say we should all continue going through these mountains," said Gandalf the second the Fellowship was grouped together. They all shot him extremely ugly looks, restraining the urge to throttle him with their scarves.

"The wizard's vote doesn't count," announced Frodo to a sea of nods. "Okay. So where should we go?"

"I suppose we could keep going on," said Pippin doubtfully, staring at his miserable blue-tinged toes.

"NO!" screamed everyone else except Gandalf—most loudly and pointedly the snow-plowers. Pippin shrank back and shrugged.

"We could go through the Gap of Rohan," suggested Boromir hopefully.

"Nah, it's too close to Saruman and Orthanc. We'd get caught or creamed by orcs and whatnot."

"Well, then," decided Frodo, his hands on his hips, "I guess the Mines of Moria, whatever they are, are our best option."

"They are filled with nameless perils that you can only dream of," Gandalf began to warn ominously.

"Oh, shut up you old coot," everyone snarled.

"Hey," said Gimli, stroking his beard. "I migh' be able ta make things a li'l clearer fer th' lot o' ya." They turned an interested eye upon him. "Would ya like ta go ta th' Mines, which is full o' monsters an' fiends an' dwarves, or would ya like ta stay up on this mountain with the elf skippin' circles around yer head?"

And so it was unanimously agreed that they should all head off for the Mines of Moria.


	5. You Say Sam, I Say Hamburger Patty

**Again, really I don't own anyone except maybe Kelly. **

**Chapter 5: You Say Sam, I Say Hamburger Patty**

Here is the part where Sauruman or some big-cheese evil dude says "Release the Worgs and sic them on the Fellowship" and Mr. Head of Worgs says "Okay" and it's all dramatic and everything.

****

Everyone was naturally glad once they had come down from the mountain and Legolas had sunk back quite literally to their level, but exhausted to the point that they would definitely kill Gandalf, magic or no, if he insisted they go on. Anyways it was night (it is always conveniently night when the heroes are tired!). So they set up camp in a forest clearing—where else?

Pippin offered to start the fire. They let him, and naturally deeply regretted doing so. Once they had extinguished the bedrolls, supplies, and a couple trees, Sam set about making dinner. "Wish I had me a few more taters. Taters would taste so good with this stew. Lovely golden chunks of it, can you imagine?"

"Yes," said Kelly in a very bored voice from across the fire. "I believe I can."

"Taters, taters, taters," Sam cackled happily, in love with the sound of the word and its meaning.

"Platypus!" Pippin added happily, showing with a flourish a live, viciously thrashing platypus held by its tail in the firelight. Everyone inched away from him.

"No, Pippin," said Aragorn gently, in a friendly voice, "not platypus. Put Mr. Platypus away. They're poiso—"

No sooner did the word almost leave his mouth when Kelly grabbed the platypus, pulled out an empty vial from somewhere, and begin milking the platypus's foot spurs of venom. When she was done, she walked away a few yards and let down one highly irritable, disheveled platypus. "What?" she asked in answer to the others' stares. "It's what I do."

"Oooookay," said Boromir. "Well that was really random."

"Shush," Legolas hushed them. "I hear something. It sounds like…" He squinted.

"Not… Not another Mary Sue, is it?" quavered Merry nervously. He pulled the cloak in his cloak in a little closer to his body."

"No," soothed Legolas, "I think it's just a pack of worgs preparing to attack and kill us all, then devour our gruesome remains until nothing us is left but gnawed-on bones."

"Oh," sighed Merry in relief. "Well, then, that's not so bad." Aragorn and Legolas nodded fervently, in total agreement.

The rest of the party could now hear the worg as well. They chorused through the woods, echoing off bark to resonate within the forest.

"Sounds like a lot of them," Kelly noted. She drew out her axe, and the other members of the Fellowship likewise presented their weapons of choice. They stood up as one, backs to the fire.

"There! There!," Legolas called. Sure enough, there were deeper shadows in the darkness than trees' bowels at night. They had red eyes (but of course) that glowed malevolently in the Fellowship's direction.

"Ooooh, this is going to be fun!" squealed the Author happily, hands rubbing together.

"Hey!" shouted Kelly. "I thought I told you to stop interrupting the story! And now you've all but ruined the dramatic tension."

"Well, sor-ry," huffed the Author.

"It's the least something you could do for me," muttered Kelly. "I haven't really forgiven you for giving me a name like Kelly Dungflinger."

So the worgs approached, hackles raised, snarling—you know, worg-things. Gandalf hid behind Frodo.

"Um, Gandalf?" asked Frodo, "Aren't you supposed to be protecting me or something?"

"I am, I am," Gandalf assured him. "It's just that as a wizard, I protect you better when I'm _behind_ you, you see?"

"I guess," said Frodo, though he really didn't in the slightest. He shrugged and drew out Sting, and assumed what he hoped was a fighting stance.

Merry looked at the short sword in his hand. He looked at the very large, very hairy wolves. He gulped, his eye's darting to see Pippin's expression. Pippin was wearing an exceptionally stupid smile that was probably starting to unnerve the worgs themselves. Why is Pippin always crazy in the fan fictions? Merry wondered, then shook his head and concentrated on the task at hand.

The worgs took a few steps forward, fully within sight of all the party members.

"Oh, no!" squeaked Gandalf. "They have us surrounded! We're all going to die!" He sobbed a little. Frodo looked at him, half disbelievingly. "I mean, um, oh, look, they seem to have us surrounded. Oh well," he reiterated quickly. He cleared his throat and stuck a half-hearted fake-looking fighting pose.

Meanwhile, Boromir, Aragorn, and Kelly had formed a little triangular formation, Aragorn at the front and Boromir and Kelly at the back. Honestly, Aragorn sort of forgot the purpose of the formation, but it just felt right to do when three people were involved. "You'd better be able to fight," he whispered now to Kelly, "And fight well."

"My friend," she whispered back, "Kiss my airy-fairy arse." Aragorn stared hard at her for a moment, then turned his eyes back to the worgs. "Mary Sues do fight well in a very weird and non-descriptive way, I'm told," he could not help but say. And so Kelly cuffed him on the back of the head, receiving an "ow" in response.

"Quit it, you two," grunted Boromir. "This isn't the place or the time to have small, sad quasi-arguments of less-than-epic proportions."

The worgs were getting pretty bored by now waiting for their cue from the Author to attack. The Author was, in fact, screwing a little with the worg's minds (and possibly a little with the readers' minds). But eventually the Author got bored, and so the worgs struck.

Legolas, being the awesome elf archer that he is and always will be, shot three worgs in rapid succession to a round of applause from the Hobbits (he bowed). Gimli whacked and hacked and cursed dwarven curses keeping some of the more persistent of the worgs from Legolas's soft, highly edible flesh.

The Hobbits were hesitant to join the battle, seeing as they were Hobbits, but eventually as was his custom, Sam charged a wolf shouting, "MISTER FRODO!!!!!!!!" The wolf had the lower hand, as it is both surprising and unnerving to have an overweight short little dude charging you, pots clanking about him, waving a short sword wildly. Somehow Sam's sword found the wolf's jugular at one point or another, and it died (that is generally what happens when you hit something in the jugular with a short sword).

Pippin ran screaming into the ranks of worgs like a beserker. While he hadn't actually killed more than one or two, the wolves generally avoided him due to the fact that he was obviously insane. Merry stepped out, poked something with his sword, and ran behind Legolas, where he would remain for the duration of the battle.

Still, he was braver than Gandalf. The wizard hadn't even started thinking about moving out from behind Frodo. In fact, the only thing he did throughout the entire fight was peer cautiously over the Ring-Bearer's curly brown hair.

There wasn't much to report on the part of Aragorn, Boromir, and Kelly. They killed a lot of worgs via hacks, slashes, stabs and heavy chops. Aragon pokes a wolf through the skull, Kelly imbeds her ax blade into the spine of the worg at his back, and Boromir beheads another—really, the stuff of bards' legends.

So eventually the worg attack was defeated, no thanks to Gandalf and Merry (Frodo helped out Sam a bit).

"So," Kelly said, staring around at the carnage. "What do we do wih all these dead worgs? Just leave them here to rot?"

"Aha," said Pippin with a chuckle. "I think I can help you with that question, my dear."

"Uh-oh," muttered Kelly under her breath. "I sense a musical score coming on…"

"A wise friend of mine," said Pippin, summoning a guitar from nowhere, "now, dead—bless his soul-- once asked me that same question:

_Oh what do you do_

_Oh what do you do_

_With a dead worg_

_Dead of you?_

_ Oh do you_

_Oh do you_

_Take him to the morgue_

_Afraid his fami-ly will sue?"_

"Let me put a stop to you right there, Pippin. The song… is god-awful. Your singing voice is even worse. And this story isn't even a musical! So for the love of humanity, please stop singing!" Humanity cheered wildly at her words.

And so Pippin sulked at the edge of the firelight. "I don't get to do anything around here," he mumbled, wondering if he should make some tea with the nearby bog water.

"That's because whenever we do let you do something, you set the forest on fire, you bring a poisonous animal into our midst, and then you sing a song that's a crime against humanity and for that matter, an infringement of human rights."

"But really," said Kelly. "What _do_ we do with these dead worgs?"

"Hummm…," thought Aragorn. "We could put them in a stew!"

"Ewwwww," everyone else said at that, giving him strange looks. "That's just wrong."

"Well, if it helps, they would have eaten us without batting so much as an eyelid."

" That's because they're WORGS!" yelled Boromir. "Worgs _eat_ people, it's what they do! But people eating worgs is not considered a good practice!"

"Fine," said Aragorn. "But quit yelling. I just remembered something. Gandallf, wasn't there something in this quest that had something to do with secrecy or something."

Gandalf said, "Hmmm…You know, I think there very well might have been. Let me try to remember…"

Everyone looked at each other. There was complete silence for a long, long time. Then, finally, it was broken.

"Oops!" Pippin said cheerfully.

"Well, I suppose that ship has sailed," said Legolas sadly, inclining his head.

"Sailed?" Kelly had a lopsided smile spread across her not-really-pretty features. "It's gone beyond sailed. It's probably on the distant shore if you get my meaning."

"Well, why would you say that?" asked Legolas.

'First: the Mary Sue. There was a lot of screaming involved, if you'll recall. As in, a lot. And then we kept yelling at Gandalf, but that's sort of okay since Sauruman knew where we were anyway. And then Pippin sets fire to the trees. End of story. And none of us have been trying to do anything quietly throughout the entire trip."

"That is a fascinating point," said Legolas, nodding. "It would seem that we've been neglecting a major objective in this trip: _Be quiet_."

"Wow…" Boromir yawned. "That was a really interesting, stimulating conversation. Let's go and sleep on it, shall we?"

"I REMEMBER NOW!" screamed Gandalf at the top of his lungs.

Everyone just sighed and went to sleep.


	6. Battle Cry

**I don't own anything or anybody except Kelly.**

**Chapter 6: Battle Cry**

The next morning, everyone but Frodo got up (Frodo, upon being wakened, opened one eye, said "I'm Ringbearer! I need my rest!" and went back to sleep), ate breakfast, picked up Frodo's limp body, and started on their way to the Mines of Moria.

They forgot completely about the dead worgs, despite the fact the corpses were splashed throughout their campsite. At least the flies of the region would be extremely fat and content.

So they did a lot of walking, because this is Middle Earth, and in a couple of hours/days/weeks they arrived at the entrance to the Mines of Moria. Or, at least, what Gandalf said was the entrance to the Mines of Moria. He was their guide, so they decided just to take his word for it.

"Nice lake," observed Kelly, peering at its black rippling surface. She started when Pippin, then Boromir tossed large rocks into the great pool.

"What'd you do that for?!" She gaped at them incredulously, then walked as far from the lake as possible, to stand next to Gandalf, who was rapping rocks with his staff, muttering to himself with Frodo at his heels.

"We didn't like the looks of the water!" answered Boromir and Pippin in unison (both of them were holding rocks again).

"So you threw stones at it?"

"Yes!" they screeched happily.

"Are you two complete and utter morons?"

"Probably!" they laughed together. Kelly looked at them for a moment, eye twitching and hands on hips, then turned away and cursed a little under her breath.

"What's up?" Frodo asked upon seeing her foul temper.

"Those idiots are throwing rocks in the water.'

"So?"

" 'So?' So there's probably something really nasty and probably really hungry in the water that they've awakened."

"I don't follow, Kelly."

Kelly smiled and gave a small, hysterical laugh, one eye rolling to the back of her head to show nothing but white. Her hands clenched and unclenched, fingers waving as she strangled mid-air.

"Wow, Kelly," remarked Frodo, "That was really pretty darn creepy."

"Thanks." Kelly glanced over her shoulder, to see the two knuckleheads giggling and throwing more sizable stones into the spooky waters. "Just give the pond some breathing room, okay?"

"Okey-dokey artichokee!" Frodo smiled brightly. "Are you done yet, Gandalf?"

"Uh, almost," said Gandalf, trying hard not to panic. He put on a false, cheesy grin and gave the thumbs-up. Then, breathing heavily, he desperately began whacking the wall, the sound cracking off the cliff walls and reverberating over the water. Frodo and Kelly stared at him all the while, not so much as attempting to hide their confusion. Eventually, frustrated and exhausted Gandalf stopped and, with a choking sob of despair, pounded the unforgiving stone wall with his fist.

A mystical, magical elvish-style door outlined in glowing light suddenly appeared.

"Holy crap!" shrieked Gandalf, stumbling back from it.

"Wow, you found the door!" Frodo congratulated.

"By accident," added Kelly quietly.

"Now all I need to do is remember the password!" said Gandalf, doing a jig with great gusto, then deflating when he saw the others' expressions. "What?" he asked in concern, looking from face to sullen face.

"There—" started Frodo.

"Is—" continued Kelly, anger's edge rising hard in her voice.

"A—"

"PASSWORD?!" screamed both of them in absolute disbelief.

Legolas sidled over to them with a cocked eyebrow. "Wait," he said slowly. "So first you have to _find _the door, then you have to give a password?" He stopped, impressed. "That's good security."

"But now the question is if the old fool can actually in fact, oh, RECALL THE STUPID PASSWORD," snarled Merry.

"Sheesh," grumbled Gandalf. "What's with the tempers, everybody?"

"We've been waiting out here for three. Friggin'. Hours," Merry explained, wanting very much to kill the wizard and be done with it. He gave Gandalf the stink eye.

"There's writing at the top," Frodo noticed suddenly. What does it say, Gandalf? Because I'm too lazy to remember if I can read Elvish."

"It says 'speak friend and enter'."

"Eh?"

"Well, I think it obviously means that a friend, knowing the password, could enter."

"Then let's give your idea a shot," groaned Kelly, placing her head in her hands and furiously rubbing her temples. "Until one of us gets a better idea. Which we thankfully will." The others shrugged and agreed.

* ***

"Okay," Merry, the entirety of his face twitching manically and his eye all but vibrating, "We're reaching the four-hour mark. Not since we arrived here, mind you. Since he found the stupid effing door."

"How do you now the specific times anyway?" asked Legolas suspiciously.

"I lugged this half –hour-hourglass with me from the Shire," Merry said, holding up the contraption.

"But why?"

"I like keeping the time of things."

"That's really weird."

"Is it?"

"Yes."

"AAAAAAAUUUURRRG!" shrieked Frodo. "Make the pointless conversation stop!"

"Uh-oh!" the Almighty Author chuckled generously. "It seems that the story is getting a little dull…But I have a great idea concerning flying squirrels to liven things up!"

"Oh no you don't!" roared Kelly.

"Ah, come one," whined the Almighty Author.

"Shut up and get on with the story," the whole Fellowship told the Author.

"Fine."

Frodo suddenly sprang up. "I have it! I have it!" he squealed joyously.

"Have what?" everyone asked (they were pretty tired by this point).

"The password!"

"Oh?" said Gandalf, looking skeptically down his large nose at Frodo.

"What's the Elvish word for Friend?"

"_Mellon_."

The door swung majestically open, the halow of light about it. "So the password is '_friend'_? It's actually a riddle?" said Legolas, shaking his head. "That really sucks. What moron thought that up for security?"

"Yeah, seriously," said Kelly. "It's like having natural selection for enemies. It makes sure only the clever can invade."

Gimli grunted.

"So let's go in!" beamed Gandalf, a spring in his step as he headed for the doorway. He started whistling a jolly tune, then added, "For I discovered the password!"

"Hey!" snapped Frodo.

So the Fellowship filtered into the Mines of Moria. Frodo, the last, was just about to enter when he felt something thick and slimy and ALIVE wrap around his ankle. "Oh, crap," he groaned before being tugged away.

The next thing he knew, he was being dangled by his foot over a toothy gaping maw, a bunch of tentacles rising in the air around him. "God!" he sobbed. "This is what a potato feels like before being eaten by Sam!"

"Where's Frodo?" he heard Aragorn ask Gandalf.

"No clue," responded Gandalf. "I thought he was behind you."

"Oooops." Aragorn elongated the word considering its implications.

"Aragorn?" Pippin called timidly.

"Not now, Pippin," Aragorn harshly, "We're tryiung to find Frodo. Is that you, Frodo?"

"No! Stop grabbing at me! I'm Merry!"

"Aragorn…" called Pippin again.

"I said not now, Pippin!"

"Oh. It's just that Frodo's being held aloft by his ankle by a giant squid thing, just seconds away from certain death and probably the damnation of the world."

There was a period of utter silence, then Aragorn said, "Wait, say that again?"

Sam burst from the entrance like a bullet, yelling "FFFFFFFRODO!!!!!!!!" He was shortly followed by Boromir and Kelly, both with weapons in two hands. Kelly, like Sam, charged in with a battle cry.

It rose from the depths of her empty stomach, a cry for delectable Asian sustenance that she had always kept somewhere in her heart of hearts. "SSSSSSSSUUSHI!!!" She swung wildly as she came in, felling tentacles like feeble dandelions under a frantic gardener. Boromir was just as effective, but less impressive. Sam simple got flicked away by a tentacle—his reflexes were never spot-on—but he greatly enjoyed his flying lesson.

"PEOPLE!" Frodo screamed, desperate by this point as the tentacle was dropping towards the terrible teeth. "A little help here!"

Boromir and Kelly looked at each other, eyed Frodo, and rushed to his aid. Boromir caught him as Kelly chopped away the tentacle holding him. Had not the tentacle been writhing backwards, Frodo might have become squid-chow at any rate.

Then the Watcher, as it was called, becoming more enraged with each removal of an appendage, slapped all three away. They landed badly and crawled speedily towards the Mine entrance. They made it seconds before the Moronic Watcher collapsed the doorway on its tentacles.

"Aw, man!" whined Gandalf. "Now it's all dark."

"Bite me," said Kelly, her voice muffled by the stone floor.

"No matter," Gandalf sighed. "Must I do everything myself?" The Fellowship glared at him, conveying all their loathing and intense hatred with a single look. Gandalf, not noticing as usual, had the end of his staff light up. "Wow, quite a battle here."

Kelly looked around at the carnage, the decaying dwarf and goblin bodies that littered the hall, opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, and said, "Free weapons!"

Everyone, including Gimli, made a mad rush for the free weapons.

Some time later, they exited the corpse-filled hall ("They didn't need th' axes n' whatnot anyway, they're dead," rationalized Gimli). Everyone was admiring their new used swords, and Legolas had some really neat black barbed goblin-arrows in his quiver.

They continued through the Mines of Moria. As the word "mine" suggests, it was dark, underground, and had a lot of tunnels. Their passage was crazy and random, and went in any given direction: up, down, north, east, south, west. No one was surprised, then, when Gandalf, upon reaching a crossroads, announced he had no idea whether to go left or right.

"This means more waiting, doesn't it?" Merry said listlessly.

"Yup," said Kelly.

"We're eventually all going to go mad, aren't we."

"Yup."

"Thank you for your monosyllabic answers."

"You're welcome."

"Are we bantering?"

"I'm not quite sure, but there's certainly a chance we might be."

"Why?"

"We're killing time waiting for Gandalf to pick a tunnel so we can get horribly lost and die isolated and insane in some faraway chamber deep underground so distant it will be thousands of years before our remains are found."

"Ah. I see."

"Wanna play poker?"

"Sure."

"Count me in!" cried Aragorn.

"I'll play," said Frodo.

"Me too," piped up Pippin.

So Gandalf wasted his hours away with Legolas at his side while everyone else played poker or watched the game. Eventually, the poker session was terminated when Pippin ate half the cards and Frodo was found to have been keeping cards in his sleeve and the Fellowship ended up watching Legolas brush his hair.

"It's sickening," muttered Kelly.

"Truly," agreed Boromir, the two of them observing the male elf with faces twisted in horrid fascination.

"Oh, go away!" snapped Legolas.

"Y'know," sniped Kelly, "Brushing one's hair, if you're a male, can attract Mary Sues."

Legolas instantly dropped the brush and yelped, "Don't joke about that stuff!"

"I'm not," Kelly stated grimly, shuddering a bit.

"Did someone say Mary Sues might come?" asked Merry, his voice high-pitched and thin. You could see his Adam's Apple bounce as he gulped.

"Don't worry," Aragorn tried to reassure him. "We're probably too deep underground to encounter one. In fact," he continued with a grin, "the closest thing you'll find to one down here is Kelly."

"Shut your big flapping mouth," hissed Kelly, a murderous glint in her eye.

"When's Gandalf going to choose a tunnel already?" Frodo grumbled, ignoring the small spat. "And where's Gimli?" The Fellowship looked around, but no trace of Gimli was to be found in the small area between the fork in the tunnel.

"Reckon we should look for him?" Legolas asked.

"Let's give him a little more time," decided Frodo, ready to toss into line the fact that he was Ringbearer if need be.

"But what if he's encountered a monster?"

Frodo gave a shrug and brushed the fear under the carpet with a flap of his hands. "What if, what if. What's the point in worrying about such things?"

"Uh, I don't know, we might be able to save him if he's in trouble?" Legolas said sarcastically.

"This conversation is getting lame—" started Sam, when he was interrupted by a scream from Frodo.

"Gollum!"

"Gum?" said Kelly in confusion, not being well-acquainted with Smeagol.

"Gol-lum," Aragorn explained, "A murderous little frog-man who, being its previous owner before Bilbo for many years, is consumed by the ring and will go to any lengths to retrieve it and who is so named in reference to the sounds he makes in attempting to clear his throat."

"Gum is simpler," noted Kelly.

"But wait," Aragorn frowned. "I thought they covered that in the Council of Elrond?"

"Well, I guess if you say so. But I wasn't paying attention, really. I was hungry and there was just a bunch of useless background stuff. All I got from it was, 'World in danger because of Sauron, destroy Ring in Mount Doom in Mordor, and world is saved.'"

"That's pretty much all you need to know," sighed Aragorn. "It was a rather overly long Council. At least two elves fell asleep during the speech."

"I was one of them," Legolas admitted grudgingly. "I am an elf of action."

"It's a good thing too," said Kelly. "An elf of contemplation takes about fifty years to get a jar of peanut butter out of a cupboard."

"I take it you watched Elrond making his midday snack," said Aragorn.

"I foun' it!" A familiar voice startled the Fellowship members. Gimli came running out of one of the tunnels, as fast as his stubby little legs could carry him. "I knew I would fin' it!" He leapt about, making crowing sounds and raising eyebrows.

"You found what, Gimli?" questioned Legolas.

"Think, elf! If yer lost an' don' know what direction ta go in, where do ya go?"

Legolas was puzzled. Shaking his head, he said, "I'm not sure, Gimli." Kelly, however, seemed to understand as her eyes widened and her lips quirked up in a smile.

"Why, a Tourist Information Center o' course!" roared Gimli. "Th' one I foun' was abandoned, but…" He pulled something from his pack. A map. Everyone but Gandalf—who was still standing with his back to the Fellowship, trying to decide which way to go—looked on as Gimli unfolded the map. It's tha' tunnel, he said, pointing over his shoulder.

Gandalf glanced back, saw where Gimli was pointing, and yelled, "That one!" He gestured to the correct tunnel. "I've remembered!"

Boromir gave a great sigh. "We've given the wizard glare after glare, and he never seems to notice. What's the point."

And so they stuffed themselves into the tunnel and did what you do in Middle Earth—walk.

****

Some time later, they came to the chamber with the tomb of Balin, Gimli had himself a nice good cry, and Gandalf said, "We're stopping here for a rest."

No one cared to argue with that, so they did.

And naturally, they neglected to keep Pippin from the well.

Pippin noted a little rock which he could toss in to judge the depth of the well. And then he saw something even better—an entire dead, armored dwarf.

Meanwhile, Legolas was examining one of the dwarf corpses. "These look like goblin arrows," he said of one of the shafts sticking out of the corpse.

"It's either the goblins or the moles that got 'em," said Kelly with a completely straight face.

"Yeah, Legolas. You might want to stop stating the obvious," said Aragorn, rolling his eyes. "It was plain that goblins attacked this place from the first chamber we stepped into." He stopped talking suddenly, looking past his closer companions to gaze at Gandalf. "Is he assaulting a dwarf corpse?"

"What? What, wait—no!" cried Gandalf. 'I'm just trying to get this big book free!" Indeed, it was then that they spotted a large tome clutched within the fingers of the decayed dwarf.

"Well, stop it then," said Legolas. "It really creeps me out when you do that."

Gandalf huffed, but didn't continue attacking the dead dwarf. They all settled back and thought about getting some sleep when—

CLANG!

CLACK!

CLING!

DING!

They all jumped to their feet and turned about wildly to see Pippin, grinning and standing over a well. "What did you do?!" they all shrieked, pulling out their hair in fantastically large clumps and stomping their boots.

"I shoved a dead dwarf down the well to see how deep it was!" he exclaimed proudly, fancying himself a scientific person.

"Why?" moaned Frodo, eyes raised to the ceiling.

"Because I wanted to see how deep the well is!" repeated Pippin.

"No, you dolt, I was asking any higher power—any at all—why they stuck me with you on this really strange save-the-world quest!"

"Zip it," called Legolas. Kelly also raised her hand for silence.

"Crap," the two elves groaned simultaneously. Everyone's eyes were now on the pair as they cupped hands to pointy ears.

"That's a war drum if I ever heard one," said Kelly in time, taking her hand away from her ear and moving it to her axe. "I believe we'll be in a swarm of angry goblins in maybe half an hour or so, give or take a couple of minutes."

"And I agree." Legolas reached for his uber-elf longbow.

"Nice work, dimwit," Merry said to Pippin in disguted tones. "Now you've set a bunch of goblins on us."

Pippin began enthusiastically clapping in admiration of his own feat, applause shared by absolutely no one. The war drums, meanwhile, were becoming louder. Soon they resonated inside the room.

"Well, at least it's not marimba music," Kelly said. Everyone agreed wholeheartedly. Her unemotional expression changed suddenly to utter panic as she gripped her arm.

"What is it?" Aragorn gasped, thinking he might know the answer.

"Bar the doors. Now," she said in deadly calm. She turned her head towards Legolas. "These goblins are the foulest of the foul." She took a deep breath. "They've enlisted one of—"

"Them," rasped Legolas, completing the thought.

"One of the worst," she said, nodding. "My rash came in before I saw a single glimpse of it."

Aragorn, too, was listening, his expression very grave. He spun to face the rest of the party, gathering his courage together and trying to forget the incident at the beginning of the trip. "Men," he began, "this will be one of the greatest challenges of the quest of the Ring. This will be the test of everyone's will to survive. It will require strength of character and constitution. We must grit our teeth, sail through the storm and hope for the best.

Everyone knew what he meant.


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't own anything or anyone except Kelly.**

**Chapter 7: The Wicked Fight And Urgent Flight**

"I'm scared," said Merry, shivering.

"We all are," intoned Kelly, patting him on the shoulder before moving to the center of the chamber with Gimli. It had been decided that the dwarf and the female elf be in the front lines, for they were the only ones who could and would fight well and go unwanted by the Mary Sue. Not that their stomachs weren't souring at the prospect of what they would face, but at least the Mary Sue would not be throwing herself upon them.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir were spread out in the back of the chamber, as to avoid giving the Mary Sue a concentrated target. Legolas took the far left. After much arguing Aragorn had to take the center, and Boromir got the right. The remainder of the Fellowship were scattered in between the front and back lines. Frodo, towards the back, had to keep moving because Gandalf insisted on hiding behind him again. Merry was quietly swearing to actual partake in this battle, unlike the fight with the worgs. Pippin was being Pippin ad smiling while he slowly mentally sank into the screaming bloodthirsty frenzy he could attain at will.

The Author was panting with excitement. "This is going to be good! This time I'll actually take five trillion years telling the poor foolish Readers every single darn detail of the battle!"

"Yay!" said Kelly, Gimli, Aragorn, and Boromir. "This is my moment to shine!" The lot of them took a minute to polish their weapons so that their blades could gleam upon entering goblin flesh.

Glad as they were that they were about to showcase their mad Matrix fighting skillz, their hearts still quailed at the idea of the Mary Sue, and Aragorn and Boromir were frankly worried that her presence could ruin their performance. Kelly wondered if the rash might interfere with her battles and lower her overall kill-count. Gimli feared that he might vomit in the heat of battle due to the presence of the Mary Sue.

The yelping of goblins now accompanied the war drums and, on occasion, a blood chilling "Llleggy…" was heard: the cry of a Mary Sue on the hunt.

Then the goblin band reached the chamber doors. Hearing the thud of bodies tossing themselves against the wood, Legolas took a bead on the entrance. The doors bucked a little. Muscles tensed, ready to spring. The doors crashed open, and Gimli and Kelly chared forward to meet it head on, swinging their axes swiftly about in controlled chops and stunning those they weren't immediately engaging with their powerful body odors. Four goblins fell in the first second of battle under axe blades, and a fifth was shot by awesomeful elf archer Legolas.

Pippin then swept into motion, shouting, his sword arm working wildly to injure or kill anything that got too close. Merry followed a fair distance away, stabbed a goblin as hard as he could, and felt the responding parry. He issued a squeak, desperately wanting to run away, and automatically kicked the goblin in the crotch. It tumbled, and he took the opportunity to plunge his blade into the back of its neck. He pulled the short sword out and examined the blood on its edges. Then he realized what had happened. "I killed a gobliiiiin…I killed a gobliiiiiiiin…," he cried in a sing-song, boasting voice. "I'm the coolest Hobbit who ever lived! Better watch out, 'cause I killed a goblin!" Then he saw that no one was paying attention to him. "Darn it!" he muttered. "When will I ever get the spotlight?"

Samwise Gamgee stood, legs sturdily splayed apart, a pan set defensively upon his head, and defended his master. A goblin rushed at him, and, Frodo and Gandalf cheering him on at his back, he struck a deadly blow upon its throat. It gurgled, sprayed a little blood on Sam for good measure, and fell to the ground. "Eeeeeeewww," said Frodo, looking at his gardener's tunic.

"Yeah," agreed Sam.

"The Author better not make anything too Monty Python."

They both glared at the Almighty Author.

"But I had a few jokes planned…" the Author's voice faded away into a sigh. "Well, might as well move away from you two."

For the dreaded Mary Sue had entered the fray.

"Ohhhhhh Leggggggyy…" came her brain-melting call, " Lllllllleggggggyyy!"

"MARY SUE!" shouted Kelly, pointing out the Mary Sue to Gimli before swiping the head of a goblin off its shoulders, for the redheaded fiend was closer to the dwarf. Gimli executed a flying kick to the nearest goblin and dispatched its downed form with a solid whack, then moved towards the Mary Sue only to find another goblin in the way. To his horror, he saw the Mary Sue slip off towards Legolas. Poor, unsuspecting Legolas.

****

Legolas was sort of becoming overwhelmed with the sheer multitude of goblins in his area. He never seemed to have enough time to reach for his long knives, and so was stuck killing goblins by bowshot in close quarter-combat. That probably wasn't very fun.

"Very observant of you, Author," he spat angrily, grabbing an arrow from his quiver and simply stabbing the nearest goblin. The Author chuckled and offered no response, knowing what was in store for Legolas.

A goblin leg suddenly swept Legolas off his feet, and he landed hard on his back. He watched a goblin line up a blow that would no doubt dispatch him quickly with its scimitar. He gave a little sigh, thinking this to be is end, when a slender sword suddenly poked through the goblin's ribs. The goblin fell without a sound. Mysteriously, its body turned to vapor upon reaching the floor. Legolas realized what this meant immediately and loosed a blood-curdling, high-pitched scream.

It would be a good time to tell you now that, most mysteriously, when Mary Sues kill (orcs, goblins, etc.), they leave no bodies.

In his desperation, Legolas soared to his feet while drawing his long knives. He furiously poked holes through the goblin ranks, hoping to find an escape route. He froze when he heard a voice behind him. "i saaaaaaaved u, leggy, I saved you, I like u sooooo much because your beautiful."

The stink nearly overwhelmed him as he turned to see a red-haired Mary Sue with gigantic emerald eyes. He could not scream—he had no voice left. He actually shouldered aside some of the goblins away in an attempt to get away. The blood drained from his face. There was no way past it. He was trapped.

Aragorn it was who saved him. Just when he thought all was lost and the Mary Sue would have him, a swishing sword suddenly opened a pathway between the goblins. "Arry!" squealed the Mary Sue, but he paid it no heed and plunged ahead to Aragorn.

"We need to get out of here he said to the Ranger, who nodded and yelled at the top of his lungs, "OKAY, PEOPLE! WE'VE GOTTA MOVE OUT NOW! THIS WAY!" for, indeed, the doorway leading out of Balin's chamber was only a few yards away albeit covered by a few layers of goblins. Aragorn grabbed Legolas—to Legolas's ensuing protests-- and slashed his way to the door. No feeble parries of goblins could stop Aragorn under threat of Mary Sue. The second he was in reach of the knob he turned it and broke the sound barrier getting through it, Legolas in tow. The door slammed behind them. The two took five steps forward, tripped over their own feet, and tumbled in a heap.

Sam, Frodo, and Gandalf had much more trouble getting out of there. Sam was going crazy trying to defend Frodo from the press of goblins. He sometimes took the lead. And boy was he tired. It occurred to him, then and there, that he hadn't had dinner or supper that day and was thus tremendously hungry. He had to ignore the tiny voice in his head that kept saying, Eat the wizard.

So he just mindlessly bashed away, as much trying to force the goblins back as well as kill them. His brain going numb from lack of food and his arms cramped, he missed a parry. He watched with dull interest as the scimitar tip neared his chest.

Then it jerked back. Sam looked up to see Frodo retracting his sword from the goblins' chest. Wow, Sam thought. He's competent.

So the three made it—again no thanks to Gandalf, who half-hearted zapped one single goblin with a spell.

Boromir looked around in a brief moment of reprieve from the tide of goblins. It was then that he realized something. "Crap. I'M ALL ALONE!" He ended his lament with a slashed goblin.

"What are we, chopped liver?" came an unexpected answer. A goblin shrieked and quite literally lost its head.

"Chopped onions wit' onions" added someone. The dull thunk of an axe sinking into something fleshy sounded.

Two goblins suddenly no longer obstructing his view, Boromir saw an elf and a dwarf with bloody axe blades attacking the nearest goblins. "Have—" Kelly chopped a blocking spear in half—"you—" she kicked the goblin in the chest, blowing it backward—"seen—" she blocked a falling scimitar—"my—" she clove an arm off—"pinky?"

"Sorry?" asked Boromir, making a ringing parry.

"Have you seen my pinky? I'm rather missing it!" she said as Gimli's flurry of swings gave her a moment to say something.

"Erm, no," apologized Boromir. "I'm afraid I haven't." He ended his sentence with a strong parry and killing counter.

"Oh. That's too bad." Kelly made a monstrous side-long chop that snapped a goblin's spine.

"Lass, I think ye left it 'round th' other side o' the room," Gimli told her as he bashed a goblin face in.

"I suppose I wouldn't know what to do if I found it anyway," sighed Kelly, hitting a goblin solidly in the belly and twisting around to block. "I have to say," she continued, "I'm feeling a bit faint whatv with the blood loss and everything."

"I'm sorry to here that," Boromir replied honestly. "You are looking rather pale." He parried and snapped his knee into a goblin's belly.

"Let's head ta th' exit, shall we?" suggested Gimli with a magnificent series of slashes that left a pair of goblins on the floor.

"Yes, let's do," answered the other two. Kelly swept off a pair of heads, while Boromir created a continuous gash across two goblin torsos. And with that the trio went into a powerful rush that knocked goblins dead or away. They swept for the door, only to hear the cry, "Borry!"

Theirs was then a frantic dance of whirling axe blades and sword sweeps. They plowed through the goblins, and Gimli snatched the door knob with his fingers.

"Hurry up!" said Boromir urgently. "She's commmmmiiiiiing…"

Gimli wrenched it open and the remainder of the Fellowship reached temporary safety. The trio plopped down on the floor to see Frodo stroking the Ring.

"Hey," said Boromir, panting. "you should give me that."

Everyone stared at him. "Wrong moment to ask?" questioned Boromir.

"_Yes_," everyone responded.

The door suddenly shuddered. "Oh, come on!" said Kelly weakly. She looked around. "Anyone got bandages?" So Kelly wrapped her badly bleeding hand and looked at the Author.

"Sorry for taking your pinky," said the Almighty Author, knowing what was coming.

"I accept your apology," Kelly muttered.

The door seemed like it would hold after the initial shudder, but no one was really anxious to test its constitution to the brink, so the Fellowship packed up and wandered off, doing some more—you got it—walking.

The Author, starving, wondered how long homemade enchiladas took to cook.


	8. Two Birds, One Stone

**I still own nothing and no one except maybe Kelly. **

**Chapter 8: Two Birds, One Stone**

The Fellowship can't have been walking for more than two minutes when some familiar weird little cries began echoing in the hall. Shrieks, they were, of a potentially annoying nature, voiced yipping tones (think small-dog barks).

"More goblins," everyone sighed.

Sure enough, the pathetic, physically unimposing little suckers were soon pouring out of huge cracks in the floor and, oddly, the ceiling.

"They're like cockroaches," breathed Kelly, as they swarmed down the pillars and/or scuttled across the floor to surround the companions. "Hundreds and hundreds of cockroaches!" She sounded almost impressed.

"Well, now what?" asked Legolas. "We didn't even try running away from them, and now we're in a sea of small, surprisingly stinky critters."

"Uh, th' stink would be me," coughed Gimli, blushing in a startling show of embarrassment. He stared in shame at his boot-clad feet.

Sam was hesitant to correct him, but eventually did. "It's not all you," he said, his voice trembling somewhat.

"Oh, sweet Lord!" everyone else besides Gimli gagged as the truly horrific stink wafted out from its sources. "What did you people possibly eat?" they demanded to know in unison. The goblins backed away from the party a dozen feet. The smell was the only thing holding them back, but it was an effective barrier for now.

Unfortunately, the noxious gases released were making the Fellowship light-headed, so none of them could gather together their thoughts to begin concocting an escape plan. The vapors hang there for a few minutes, then gently dispersed into the musty air, leaving the Fellowship in a very bad situation.

"Ah, sh--!" said Boromir when he saw the advance of the goblin army. All the Hobbits screamed, as did Gandalf. In fact, he screamed the highest and the loudest. Even with all the pipeweed, he had a good pair of lungs. When all the Hobbits had stopped, he still doggedly continued for sixty seconds until told to shut up, which he reluctantly did.

The goblins, having waited in order to watch Gandalf scream with amusement and satisfaction, started closing in again. Frodo knew he should have taken up religion, and berated himself for not doing so.

Then came a great, grinding roar from a distant gateway. Two goblins at the front of the horde turned to look at each other. "I think we might have to call this off," considered one, scratching its chin thoughtfully and looking at the open archway, which was now glowing with a fiery light.

"Y'know, Jim, I believe that's actually a pretty good idea," agreed Jim's fellow event organizer said seriously. They both nodded and Jim lifted a megaphone that had magically appeared from thin air to his lips. "CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE?" he said. The goblins stood still and silent to listen. "THANK YOU. NOW PEOPLE, I'M AFRAID WE'RE GOING TO HAVE TO CALL THIS COMMUNITY EVENT OFF." A chorus of groans rose from the goblin ranks. "I KNOW, I KNOW," Jim sympathized, "BUT THERE SEEMS TO BE AN APPROACHING BALROG COMING IN FROM THE SOUTHERN DOOR, AND AN EVACUATION MIGHT BE IN ORDER. EVERYONE STAY CALM AND EXIT THROUGH THE APPOINTED ROUTES." And with that, the hall became a chaos of fleeing goblins.

In the midst of the wild scene stood the Fellowship, who, not speaking a lick of goblin, were very confused. "What's going on?" Frodo asked Gandalf, hoping the wizard had an answer but knowing he did not.

"Beats me," shrugged Gandalf predictably. "But I think we might want to start running like crazy."

"Why?" Sam questioned, not really fond of running. A volcanic growl issued from the faraway archway.

"That's why," said Aragorn. "Where to?"

"Th' Bridge o' Khazad-Dum," said Gimli.

"Everything sounds less dramatic with a Dwarven accent," noticed Kelly with a degree of interest. "Even the Bridge of Khazad-Dum."

And on that note the Fellowship began a crazed dash towards the hallway exit. They swooped through it and charged through three more chambers to arrive in a positively colossal cavern, a great chasm below them. A series of spindly nail-biting bridge-staircases stuck out like islands in the emptiness.

"This just gets more fantastic with every step," mused Aragorn.

"Betcha there are going to be goblin archers shooting down at us," replied Kelly.

"Oh yeah," said Boromir.

Gandalf turned grimly towards Aragorn, looking him directly in the face with grave sincerity etched upon it.

"Let me guess," said Aragorn. "You're going to tell me to lead them on."

Gandalf shook his head, expression changing not in the slightest. "I'm tired," he said. "Carry me."

Everyone stared at him.

"Carry me! CARRY ME!" screeched Gandalf, beating Aragorn over the head with his staff. "I'm an old man! CARRY ME!" Kelly winced and put her hands to her pointy ears, wondering how to lessen the pain in her eardrums.

And so, Gandalf in his grudging hold, Aragorn made his way to one of the staircases and raced his way down it, the rest of the Fellowship at his flying heels. After about a hundred feet, Aragorn stopped, cried, "Screw this! You're on your own!" and dumped Gandalf unceremoniously onto the steps, then sped of again. Gandalf, being Gandalf, was perfectly able to keep up with Aragorn with danger on their tails.

Then came a gap in the stairs. Legolas, Boromir, and Gandalf cleared it with ease. Kelly and Aragorn hung back to chuck all the Hobbits across the pit. Gimli refused any offer of being tossed and announced he was going to jump it himself with his stubby legs and otherwise notable bulk. The companions held their breath—Sam got popcorn—and watched him try the leap, expecting a dead dwarf to be the end product.

But lo! The squat, hairy little man made a majestic jump that ended with a thud and a squashed elf. When Gimli had gotten up and Legolas had pealed himself off the stone, Kelly and Aragorn made the jump and the Fellowship sprinted off again, yet another monumental roar at their backs.

Then, finally, with whatever-it-was closer than ever, they found the bridge stretched across a bottomless crack in the earth. "Haven't they ever heard of railing?" fumed Frodo, hands clenched at his sides.

"Just CROSS!" everyone yelled. The Felllowship, figuring Gandalf was best equipped to handle the thing that was following them, passed him. Aragorn, the last to reach the other side, got there in time to hear Kelly give a long, low whistle.

He turned around to see Gandalf rush to the center of the bridge as a giant, shadowy, fiery _thing _erupted from the dark across the way. Gandalf then stopped as it occurred to him that he simply couldn't outrun it. "Curse you, young maggots!" he squealed furiously at the rest of the Fellowship, then slowly faced the Balrog. And gulped.

The Balrog revealed its fiery sword and held it aloft. Gandalf summoned a blue globe about himself, and, hoping to bluff his way out of this particular situation, shouted as powerfully as he could, "You shall not pass!"

"Yes, yes I will," hissed the Balrog, towering over the wizard and snapping its burning whip as it gave him a malevolent glare.

"I suppose you will then," squeaked Gandalf, thoroughly cowed by the Balrog's display. "I'll just get out of your way then." He looked over his shoulder at the people who desperately depended on him. "You know," he stammered, "I think Bilbo wants my help with his memoirs…Yes, I'll just be on my way then…" Gandalf made to get to the other side. The Incredibly Stupid Balrog took a few steps after him before the bridge beneath it gave way. The Balrog fell from sight. Gandalf, standing on the edge of the ruined bridge peered down nervously, then gave a relieved laugh and turned to see his glowering companions.

He was stepping forward when the burning whip suddenly flicked out of the abyss and snugly curled about his skinny ankle. "I'll get you all!" he cried in protest to everything as he slipped out to hang by his fingertips on the edge of the bridge. He scrabbled wildly for a moment, managing to obtain a more secure hold.

Then he tried to pull himself up, the rest of the Fellowship eying him. They gasped, groaned, oohed, and aahed at his spectacularly inefficient upper-body strength. A long last he gave up, said, "You people had better remember my valiant, heartbreaking death. Now fly, you fools!" let go, and plummeted.

They stood there, not speaking, until the goblin archers arrived and began shooting at them. Then they decided that it would be best to make for an egress, which they did at a rather swift pace, as the goblin archers seemed to be good shots.

Once they were outside, Aragorn tilted his head and scratched his chin in consideration of what had just happened. He looked around at the rest of the Fellowship. "Anyone need a moment for grieving?" he asked seriously.

"Grieving for what?" replied Boromir.

"Umm, Gandalf?"

"What about him?"

"He's dead."

"Oh, right." Boromir shrugged, obviously not stricken with grief over the annoying wizard.

"Is anyone sad? _Anyone_?" Aragorn said, turning to face them all.

"Nope," said Gimli.

"I mean, he didn't really do much for us. He kept taking credit for all our ideas," said Sam, eating potatoes ravenously out of a sack.

"Where'd he get those?" asked Merry, staring at the sack, but no one paid attention to him.

"And he kept using Mr. Frodo as a living shield!" continued Sam indignantly, furiously chomping on his potatoes. "Mr. Frodo! The Ringbearer!"

"Speaking of Frodo, where is he?" wondered Kelly. Everyone's eyes widened in alarm and they began whipping their heads around wildly, trying to spy the missing Ringbearer.

"There he is!" sighed Legolas a second later, pointing to a lone figure out on the rocks. He did a double take then, squinting, and muttered "Wait—is he crying?"

Aragorn quirked an eyebrow. "That can't be right," he muttered, shaking his head. "But I guess I ought to go to him if he's…grieving… for Gandalf…" He made to move toward Frodo, then turned and asked, "But what do I say?"

"You're on your own," Kelly smiled, glad that she was not Aragorn. She shoved him off in the appropriate direction and gave him a wave.

Grumbling, Aragorn made his way to Frodo. Not sure what to say about the now-deceased, highly-hated Gandalf, he stayed silent for fifteen minutes before feebly trying, "Gandalf was a very great man."

"No, he wasn't!" sobbed Frodo. "Why?" he wailed suddenly, making Aragorn jump. "Oh, why, why, WHY?" He collapsed in a heap.

"I'm so sorry about Gandalf," offered Aragorn, now confused.

"I'm not crying over the old, cranky man!" shrieked Frodo from the ground. "I lent him my iPod…AND NOW ITS GONE!"

"Ooh, now I see," Aragorn said, understanding. "I'm truly sorry, my friend. I remember your iPod. How many songs did you have on it?"

"Six hundred," replied Frodo, tears streaking down his cheeks.

****

Frodo eventually got a grip on himself, and so the Fellowship ran off for that most magical of elf kingdoms, Lothlorien.


	9. The Enemy Among Us

**If you predicted that I still own nothing and no one except Kelly, you're correct! Congratulations!**

**Chapter 9: The Enemy Among Us**

The Fellowship was running, running towards a mystical mysterious magical mythical forest. Their footsteps were smothered by the tall grass as they crushed it underfoot.

"Why are we running?" panted Kelly, who was having a bad time of it what with her copious amounts of gear. She stopped for a second, hands on her knees, to catch her breath. "Because… I think… I'm …going…to…pop…a…lung."

Legolas shot her a grin as he bounced around easily with light steps.

"She makes a good point," Boromir said as he fell, too weak to continue to run, and began crawling for the trees like a man dying of thirst. "Some of us have been carrying fifty pounds the entire way, you know!"

"You people are such wusses," said Frodo from atop his litter as the other Hobbits laboriously continued to carry him. "We've only been running at breakneck speed for a few miles of so." The Hobbits below him nodded in agreement, appearing as though they were going to collapse at any given moment.

Aragorn ran up to their sides. "Keep moving, people! We're nearly there! Once we reach those trees, we'll be safe!"

"From what?" asked Kelly in exasperation, starting to jog once more. Behind her, Merry finally hit the ground, causing all the other Hobbits to drop Frodo with the shift in weight. Frodo, in response, began yelling at them.

"Why the goblins of Moria, of course!"

"But we're miles from Moria, and no one's been pursuing us so far! There's hardly a reason to run!"

"Hummm…," said Aragorn. "You might just be right."

"Then can we stop running?" gasped Boromir from the grass, extending one arm out to drag onward, continuing his sloth-like gait.

"I would think so," said Legolas, examining the path ahead of him thoughtfully. "We're ten feet from the trees."

"Oh wow," said Kelly, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Will you look at that." She strode purposefully over to the nearest tree and gave it a good, solid kick. "Yup," she announced. "That's a tree if I ever saw one."

"So I guess we're here," Aragorn agreed. "The forest of Lothlorien, home of the Lady of the Wood."

"Oh?" said Kelly. "Who's she?"

"You're not very well-versed in the lore of anything, are you?" observed Aragorn, his tone very dry.

"Jeez! I milk huge spiders and mug halflings for my living! What do you want from me? But really, who is she?"

" A sorceress of terrible power," Gimli began ominously. "It is said that all who see her fall under her spell."

"And then what?"

"Uhh…"

"Do we become like, slugs or zombies or graduate students or what?"

"Y'know, I don' actually think tha' me dad got ta tha'."

"You should really stop transcribing your accent," moaned Kelly. "It's getting annoying, and it wasn't even in the original books."

"Fine," snapped Gimli. "The point being, as we enter this forest we should be really jittery and on edge because of a couple rumors. Okay?"

"Right."

So they all went into the forest and were jittery and on edge for no good reason other than a few vague rumors. Frodo, now grudgingly walking, kept close to Gimli with the other Hobbits as he began recounting those vague rumors. Because Hobbits have the tendency to be unnaturally gullible, he made a great audience out of them. They were listening with wide-eyed horror when the spell of Gimli's gruff, obnoxious voice was interrupted by a loud thud as Kelly tripped over a tree root.

Kelly, being Kelly, began swearing at great volume and spitting out dirt as she peeled herself off the forest floor—to be met with an arrow one inch from her nose. She stared cross-eyed at it for a second, then her gaze rose to the face of its wielder. It was an elf, surrounded by companions whose bows were likewise trained on the Fellowship.

"You swear and trip over roots so loudly we could shoot you in the dark," he said softly.

"Congratulations," offered the female elf, shrugging.

"Oh? A smart-mouth are you?" snarled the other elf. "Well, missy, we have ways of dealing with your kind." He chuckled evilly, then stopped abruptly and frowned. "Wait, that didn't sound right." He turned quickly to one of the other elves. "What were we supposed to say again?"

"I forgot. We're going to have to do improv."

The elf nodded grimly. "So it shall be." He looked back at Kelly. "Who are you? What is your purpose in our sacred wood? And of what race do you be? For I've seen none the likes of you."

Kelly took a moment to figure out the interestingly twisted grammar, then started. "My name is Kelly Dungflinger—"

"Eh?"

"What?"

"What did you say your name was?"

"Kelly."

"The surname?"

"Dungflinger."

The elf scrutinized her for a few seconds, then frantically dug his slender finger into his ear in an attempt to dispel earwax. "Come again, lady?"

"Dung. Flinger."

"Well," said the elf after a few seconds of thought. "I can only draw one logical conclusion of that. She's obviously an orc," he announced to the rest of the elves."

"But I look nothing like an orc," protested Kelly.

"That's because you're in disguise," explained the elf. "It's all so clear when you think about it!"

The Fellowship thought about it, and somehow it all became clear to them. Frodo gasped. "Kelly is an orc!" he screamed, pointing."

"Why did we let her fool us so!" cried Aragorn, suddenly brandishing his sword at Kelly. "It makes so much sense! The Hobbit-mugging! The unlikely last name! The cursing!"

"Frogs!" added Pippin.

"Why, Kelly, why?" wailed Pippin. "Why did you do this to us?"

"I didn't do anything! I'm not an orc! See?" She tugged desperately on a pointed ear.

"Yeah right," said Legolas nastily. "Like we're going to believe you now."

"Frodo, you should give me the Ring," said Boromir.

"I know!" said the elf suddenly. "We should vote on it!" Everyone but Kelly heartily agreed. Kelly's eye began twitching again as it had done so often in the weeks that she had partaken in the quest.

So they all voted. Unfortunately the vote was straight down the middle. The elf considered this then said, "There is only one option left to determine this matter!" His tone went low and grave. "Bring out the coin."

One of the other elves dug into a pocket and brought out a nickel. "Heads orc, tails elf?" The Fellowship and the elves of Lothlorien nodded. Kelly groaned, grabbed a tree, and began smacking her forehead repeatedly against the bark.

The elf flipped the coin. Everyone held their breath. The coin bounced into the elf's palm, and he declared, "She's an elf!" The Fellowship sighed in relief.

"You really had me scared there for a minute," Gimli told Kelly in all seriousness. "It really seemed like you might be an orc."

Kelly wasn't really in the mood to answer.

"Well, I'm glad we sorted that all out," said the elf cheerily. "Now we'll just take you to the Lady of the Wood, because she doesn't have much going on in her life at the moment!"

*******

Lady Galadriel was bored. Very bored. Incredibly bored for a ruler whose land is on the brink of war. She would have been even more bored still had it not been for her TV remote.

"Lame. Lame. Really lame. Lame. God-awful." Click click click click. She gave the thumbs-down for each channel she found. "Gosh darn it, I'm a child of the Valar and I still can't find anything good on Dish!" she snarled. "What's a girl got to do for quality television at a low, low price?"

"Yes dear," said Celeborn said absentmindedly as he busily knitted a hot pink woolen sweater. "It's just terrible."

"Shut up."

"Yes dear." Celeborn had learned not to pay her any attention by now, wisdom gained over hundreds if not thousands of years of a hands-off marriage.

"It's like the TV people have nothing better to do than advertise chicken and run courtroom shows! It's ridiculous!" Galadriel continued her rant. "And there are all these ridiculous stupid talk shows! Get a life, people!"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Excuse me, my Lady," an elite guard popped his head into the room. "There's some people her to see you."

"That would be the pizza delivery guy," said Galadriel. "If he hasn't got a large pie, then send him back."

"Erm, no. I'm afraid it's not the pizza delivery guy, my Lady," the elite guard apologized. "it seems to be some group of adventurers or another."

"Aw, crap," said Galadriel. "I got a note from Elrond the other day. He said these people might be dropping by. I guess I'm gonna have to get off the couch and put some make-up on. Seriously, this whole being-a-leader business is one big pain in the butt."

"Yes dear," Celeborn said automatically.


	10. We Like Pudding

**I don't own anything or anyone, but Kelly's my invention.**

**Chapter Ten: We Like Pudding**

Upon reaching Lothlorien, the weary travelers saw it fit to express their all-consuming awe verbally.

"Fruity again," Kelly bad-temperedly diagnosed. "Fruity as all things elven are."

"You do remember that YOU'RE AN ELF, right?" grumbled Legolas. "And it's not a good idea to insult your hosts."

"I think it's pretty,' chirped Pippin, pouring gasoline onto the base of one great tree. "It's so serene." He gave a happy little sigh and tossed a lit match onto the tree. It promptly burst into billowing flames. "I should like to retire here,' he continued as a mass of elves moved frantically to put the inferno out. "And write my poetry." The fire climbed higher up the tree, setting alight a few graceful homes.

"Er, that might not be such a good idea," said Aragorn, looking beyond Pippin at the continuing destruction.

"Why ever not?"

"No reason. I just had this feeling."

The Fellowship quietly slipped away from the crime scene and continued on their way to see the Lady of the Wood. Luckily the elves escorting them decided not to comment on the blatant arson. Eventually they got to one of the biggest trees around, a gilded stair winding up its notable height, seeming to have sprouted from the silver-lit bark itself. The escorts gestured for them to climb the gleaming steps, and so they did.

"Still fruity?" asked Legolas smugly, a small but sure smile on his face.

"It's cool, but still fruity," grunted Kelly. Legolas sighed and threw his hands up in the air, exasperated.

Eventually the lot of them got to the beautiful building that was he center of Lothlorien, that house of pearly arches. Right off the bat they spattered mud on the pure white wood floors and left greasy fingerprints on the pristine walls as they examined every inch of it. Kelly busied herself stuffing anything that wasn't bolted down too strongly into her pack.

After a few minutes of waiting, a pair of figures arm in arm shrouded in light approached them. They instinctively clumped together and squinted at the mysterious beings.

"Greeting," said Galadriel, her voice suddenly austere and seriously melodious. "I am Galdriel, the Lady of the Wood."

"And I am Celeborn," added Celeborn. "Pet of—I mean, husband of Galadriel and Lord of Lothlorien." He peered through their filthy ranks. "Nine of you there were, yet now there are but---wait, hang on, there are still nine of you. What the heck?!"

"Oh, yeah," said Galdriel. "I forgot to tell you that another one joined last minute."

"I'm new," clarified Kelly.

Galadriel came a little closer, then suddenly hopped back. "Eeeeew. You people really stink."

"Ah, c'mon," said Kelly. "Surely we can't be that bad." She raised her arm and sniffed. And retched, "Oh god!" And choked. Boromir thumped her on the back to get her breathing again. "Okay, so that was pretty bad," she conceded once she could breathe again.

"And I was wondering why all the plants we came near seemed to be dead," added Gimli.

Galadriel, now wisely pinching her nose, came forward again. "But I see Gandalf has fallen into shadow." The music of her voice has muddled somewhat in the nasally sound produced when on pinches one's nose.

"Lothlorien is grieved for your loss," Celeborn tried to sooth. "Even now they sing songs of mourning to him."

"Did you even know the guy?" Boromir asked skeptically, not believing that anyone could truly be sorry for the loss of Gandalf. But Celeborn ignored him.

A concerned look crossed Celeborn's face. His brow furrowed. "Have you seen my spine?" he asked them suddenly. "I think I've lost it."

Kelly, staring at him, said, "I think you've lost it, too."

"I'm hungry," interrupted Sam.

"Congratulations," everyone else said in unison.

"So weary, pathetic, stinking, foolish, disheveled, dirty travelers, I take it you are in desperate need of food, baths, and rest. And as your hostess I gotta give you lot all that crap, God dammit," Galadriel offered as her welcoming speech.

"We thank your magnificent Ladyship for your gracious words and kind actions," a grumpy Kelly said, with not a little sarcasm in her voice.

Aragorn elbowed her in the ribs and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, "Insulting hideously powerful divinely descended sorceress with army of loyal elven warriors at her call is not good idea."

"Ah," Kelly bit her bottom lip and gave a pitiful attempt at a smile.

"HA HA HA!" a thunderous voice suddenly boomed from the heavens, rolling like thunder through the house. "FOOOOOOLISH MORTALS, PLAY YOUR SILLY LITTLE GAMES FOR MY ENTERTAINMENT! YOU ARE AT MY EVERY WHIM! HA HA HA HA!

"Yeah, yeah!" Kelly yelled back. "We get it! You're the Author! Shut up!"

The Author broodingly sank back into silence.

"Anyway," said Galadriel. "Ignoring the Almighty-My-Arse Author, I've got some stuff for you. Maybe." She frowned. "Let's see… Celeborn hasn't gone to the grocery store this week yet, and I'm still waiting on that pizza, but…" She thought it over for a moment. "I think I got some instant pudding in the cupboard. You in?"

"We like pudding," said Kelly weakly, rather humbled by Aragorn's arguements.

"You're hot," said Gimli to Galadriel. Everyone turned to him.

"Boy that gives me the creeps," muttered Galadriel, sincerely unnerved.

So they feasted upon instant pudding (chocolate and vanilla) and selected nice hard bits of ground to rest upon, for goodness forbid they sleep on anything quite so uncomfortable as a bed. Gimli wasn't sleeping though.

"Gimli," snarled Kelly, "Lose the binoculars or I'm going to whap you over the head with them sixty times in rapid succession."

"No way," replied Gimli. He peered through the binoculars and swished them over to settle his gaze on Galadriel's bedroom window. He giggled all the while. The Fellowship shuddered.

"Okay," growled Kelly. "That's it. Hand 'em over, Short Hairy Stalker." She reached for them, but Gimli pulled them out of her reach at the last second. As he moved, Aragorn cleverly stuck his leg between Gimli's feet and tripped him. Kelly lunged for the binoculars the second Gimli hit the ground, snagged them out of the dwarf's grasp. As promise, she began bludgeoning Gimli with them.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Gimli yelped, running away with his hands over his head. Kelly took up the pursuit. The Fellowship smiled happily as they watched the pair rush off into the darkness, the dwarf uttering exclamations of pain every ten feet of the way.

Gimli feared that the imprint of an eyepiece would remain forever on his forehead, but he was more dismayed to have lost his binoculars when Kelly finally broke them over his head.

"Aw, man," she whined, looking at the shattered contraption. "Why does everything have to come at the cheap, cheap price of $19.99?"

With that, she turned back, Gimli in tow.

Frodo was asleep, dreaming pleasant, soothing dreams in the healing world of sweet, deep rest. But not for long.

A cold, pale white hand suddenly clamped over his mouth. His scream was efficiently stifled when he woke with a start.

"Hey," came a hoarse whisper. "I got something to show you."

"Galadriel?" Frodo asked weakly, his voice muffled.

"Yeah. Who'd ya think it was, the boogey man?"

"Is that a cigarette?"

"Uh, no," said Galadriel hastily, flicking away the cigarette away. "Of course not. Cigarettes are foul, dangerous things, not fit for the forest."

"I can see that," said Frodo as the cigarette ignited a bush. A small family of woodland mice ran out from beneath the plant, to stand frightened and shivering in the cold.

"Anyway," continued Galadriel, ignoring the burning foliage. "Come with me"

"Why?" asked Frodo suspiciously. He gasped suddenly. "Ah! I know! You've come to take the ring and clam it as your own! You're trying to kill me! Aaah!" He gave another muffled scream and thrashed wildly.

"Uh, no, not really," replied Galadriel.

"Oh."

So Frodo got up and followed Galadriel to a small silver glade. At its center was a basin raised upon a graceful white stand.

'What is it?"

"A mirror." Galadriel took something out from the folds of her gown. A can of beer. She poured the alcoholic beverage in.

"Beer?" said Frodo in utter confusion. "Wasn't it supposed to be water or something?"

"Beer!" cried Celeborn, suddenly appearing from thin air. He turned to face the camera and gave the thumbs-up. "A man's beverage!"

"Scram," snarled Galadriel.

"Yes, dear." He made a hasty exit.

"Anyway," continued Galadriel. "Yup. Beer. Look into it."

"Why?" asked Frodo. "What will I see?"

"Depends. You might see what is, what has been, what might be but has not come to pass, or, alternatively, a reflection of a fat little twit who asks too many questions and beer."

"Ah." So Frodo cautiously bent over, staring into the amber depths. A scene materialized before him. "Sam?" he gasped, for there the gardener was in chains, along with a mass of dejected-looking hobbits dragging themselves across a barren yet hauntingly familiar landscape. A cruel Orcish man stood with a whip, cackling dangerously. Abruptly the man cut off his laughter and tossed the whip aside in disgust. "Screw this!" he snapped, hands on hips. "These tiny suckers can't do squat? Why did we choose Hobbits as our labor force? Why not dwarves or humans or even men? Sure, they're harder to break, but…" He continued on ranting as the scene slowly faded. After a quick commercial break starring pizza and cell phone companies, yet another scene appeared.

"Hang on," said Frodo, squinting. "Is that _Kelly_?" indeed, Kelly was walking cautiously down what looked like a web-filled tunnel, axe cautiously in hand. "They said it would be somewhere around here…They said it would be somewhere around here…They said it would be somewhere around here," she chanted, almost like a prayer. Still muttering, she stumbled nervously through the gloom. The quiet and darkness of the place raised he hairs on the back of Frodo's neck. Then Kelly came around a bend and stopped, stunned, mouth hanging open. Before her lay a gigantic, dead spider. She clutched at her heart.

"Dios mio!" she gasped. "The rumors were true!" A divine smile spread across her face, and she raised her eyes to the heavens. "My prayers have been answered!" Then she approached the spider, a vial in hand. "I'm rich!" she squealed happily. "I'm rich! I'm rich! I'm rich! Ha ha ha ha mwah hah ha ha! NO MORE HITCHHIKING! I'M IN THE EASY LANE NOW!"

The scene then faded out, then faded in again. It was still Kelly, this time beside a wagon rut, pack of poison on her shoulder and trying to hitchhike. "Goddammit," she groused as a wagon went past, spurting mud in her general direction. "Wagons can't even go that fast."

A gnome then popped in at the corner of the screen—erm, basin—and exclaimed, "That's all, folks!"

The scene faded in and out yet again. The surface of the beer flashed red, and a great fiery eye swam across its glassy face. "YO," it said in a wrathful voice. "I SEE YOU, DUDE. GIVE ME BACK MY BLING. MWA HA HA."

"Uhhh…" Frodo said, not really having a reasonable response to that. Even as he stuttered, he found to his horror that the ring around his neck was being drawn to the surface of the beer.

"YOU HAVE MY RING, BAGGINS, AND THAT I CANNOT ALLOW," continued Sauron the Terrible more seriously. "I AM COMING FOR IT...AND YOU. BE AFRAID, FRODO BAGGINS, BE VERY—" The hobble was abruptly cut off and the great eye was replaced by a cheerfully smiling family eating to the light-hearted jingle of Pepe's Perfect Pizza, a large for only $7.99. The ring, too, stopped forcing him near the beer.

The commercials stop for no one.

"Wow," said Frodo.

"I know what you are thinking of," said Galadriel quietly. "It too has long lingered in my mind."

"Really?" said Frodo. "You like Pepe's Perfect Pizza too?"

"What?" balked Galadriel. "No, no, you idiot, I was talking about the dumb ring!" She stopped to consider her own words. "Though I have been waiting on their delivery guy for a while…" She brushed it aside for the moment. "Anyway, I've been obsessing over the ring almost as much as you have."

A grim light of understanding suddenly swept into Frodo's eyes, turning his normally stupid gaze to venom. "Yous wantsing Preciousssss…" he hissed, falling into a crouch.

"Yes… Long has my heart desired it…" she whispered. "Yes!" she cried then, towering over him and looking fair and terrible all at once. He shrank back in horror. "In the place of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, more beautiful and terrible than the sea! All would love me—except for your creepy dwarf friend—and despair!"

"Hah!" snorted the Author disdainfully. "You wish. I can zap you with a lightening bolt with just a thought. Just a snap of my fingers, and the life's snuffed out of you."

"NO ONE CARES!" bellowed Frodo. "Honestly, the people you encounter these days," he huffed under his breath.


	11. A Small Fortune In Spoons And Twinkies

**DISCLAIMER: I still don't own anything. Not the characters, not the plot, not Middle Earth.**

**A Small Fortune In Spoons, A Magic Light Bulb, And Twinkies**

At a certain point in every gathering provided by the grace of the host, it becomes necessary, once the guests have overstayed their welcome, to kick them out. The manner in which the guests are kicked out, however, is up to the host. Those tugged upon by the etiquette of common society or those that possess kind and quiet hearts will perform their duty with the utmost graciousness and politeness. Unfortunately for the Fellowship, Galadriel had no such compulsions, within or without.

So in the middle of the night, they were all rather rudely awakened by a grim-faced contingent of elf guards.

"Ow!" yelped Frodo as he was prodded by an unfriendly elven boot. "Did I already go through the rude awakening already?!"

"This isn't what happened in the book," complained Kelly.

"You weren't even in the book, stupid," Legolas pointed out.

"Darn it, why do I always lose these logic things?"

"Because you're a dim-witted and rather befuddled idiot."

"Your face is befuddled."

"Oh, very clever."

"Shut up for the last-time or-I-swear-I-will-strangle-you-both-with-my-bare-hands-I-don't-care-about-the-consequences-so-help-me-they-will-never-find-your-bodies-you-pathetic-little-pointless-twits," snarled Aragorn, in the spirit of a true group leader.

This was a come-on for yet another increasingly dumb argument, but as with all of them they came to a mercifully swift end.

"Go away," said Galadriel. "The lot of you have wiped out half my fridge and I've gone two nights without sleep because the dwarf keeps trying to hide under my bed. Adios, suckers." Then she unwillingly added, "I'll see you out of the wood."

"Thank you, Galadriel" said Boromir.

"You're gonna die," she responded in his head. "And you're city's screwed unless someone does something about it."

"You're really tactful, you know that?" came a third voice in Boromir's head.

"Shut up," said Galadriel's voice.

"Yes dear." That phrase was familiar enough.

"Get the heck out of my head," Boromir told both of them.

"Fine," the two snarled in unison. They left in a huff.

The Fellowship packed up and followed Galadriel and her personal guards, with Celeborn, out of the city.

"Goodbye fruity city," Kelly said mournfully, giving it a general wave. "I'll miss your stupid trees."

"Maybe we'll return," Pippin said comfortingly.

"Maybe," agreed Galadriel, walking beside the travelers. She then dropped behind to one of her most trusted captains. "If they ever set foot in this forest again, kill them," she muttered to the soldier.

"Mercilessly?" offered the captain.

"Good man, good man. We great minds think alike."

****

They came to the great river Anduin just as the sun was casting its brilliant shadow won the eastern horizon. Dim light threaded between the tall trunks of trees and sliced through the thinner spots of the canopy. Before the company the Anduin made its swift way to the south, its gray waters chopping in white sprays against obstructing rocks.

The Fellowship stood there, heads turned as one to the lands they would travel. "I will part with you lot here," Galadriel said after a bit, breaking the silence. "I got you a couple boats." Indeed, they noticed the small, perfect crafts on the sandy bank. "And I suppose I'll give you…gifts…because that's…nice…and I'm…a……nice person." The words were practically wrenched out of her now-clenching jaw.

"First, I've got some rations." She handed a bag off to Aragorn. "A single bite of them will sustain most men for quite a while, and they last for practically forever." She frowned. "Goodness knows what they're made of, though."

"Twinkies?" Aragorn gaped.

"Yes," said Galadriel significantly. "Twinkies."

"Twinkies," the rest of the group echoed in wonder, their collective voices sounding as a awed breath. Just then the sun crested the horizon, and it seemed to all that the light shone especially strong on the Twinkie Aragorn now held aloft in his hand. Its surface seemed crusted in gold, a pastry on fire. No one could tear their eyes from it.

"Milady," Frodo then rasped. "There is no treasure in all the world, no amount of gold and jewels, no platinum crown or mithral mail, no kingdom in eternal glory, that we could give you to express our thanks for the beauty of this deed."

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmm…" For once, Lady Galadriel seemed to have been struck speechless. "I'm not quite sure I would warrant that…They are sort of just…Twinkies…"

"Sacrilege!" Kelly howled. The rest of the Fellowship nodded in agreement, eyes sparkling with sudden demonic fires.

"I mean," stuttered Galadriel, "You're thanks is much appreciated, and I am astounded at my own stunning generosity."

Mollified, they calmed down, and Galadriel continued on with the gift giving. "Here," she said to Legolas.

"Oh my," he said, feigning astonishment. "A bow." He turned around and presented the bow to the rest of the team. "Look, everyone," he said, loudly. "I got a bow. Isn't that amazing?" Legolas was a terrible actor.

"Oh my," the Fellowship said in a similarly unconvincing tone. "Wow. Legolas got a bow."

Galadriel stepped over to Kelly next. "You ain't getting anything," the tall and pretty elf said. "I know you stole all my silverware."

"Now wait just a moment—," Kelly began hotly, apparently offended, but just then a fancy spoon fell out of her sleeve and she decided it was best not to press the point. With a quick glance around her to see if anyone was watching, she picked up the spoon and stuffed it back into her sleeve.

She moved on to Boromir and gave him a rather crappy hunting knife. He took it. It fell apart in his hand. "What?" she snapped when he gave her a questioning look. "You're good as dead, I'm not gonna spend any cash on you." Which is exactly what a guy needs to hear from a woman who can see into the future.

To Frodo she passed what appeared to be light bulb. "It's a light bulb," he said uncertainly, looking up at her. "What exactly does it do?" he continued cautiously.

"It lights up. Without the rest of the electrical system. All by itself."

"Er, okay."

"For when all other lights go out."

"Cool."

"Moving on."

"Right."

So Galadriel turned to the simple gardener, Sam Gamgee. "Here," she gave him a little carven box. Eyebrow raised, he opened it. He blinked and stared at Galadriel.

"It looks like sand,' he observed.

"Dig through it," came the response. So he sifte around through the fine gain of silvery sand. He found a cigarette butt. "It's a…cigarette butt."

"Oops," muttered Galadriel under her breath. She desperately searched her pockets for the seed she had intended to place into the box. She couldn't find it. Having neither the time nor the inclination to find another one she lied, "It's a magical cigarette butt. Of the Valar. Very ancient. Very powerful."

"What does it do?"

"Erm…Well, you see," she began, mind racing frantically for an answer. "It blinds enemies."

"How?"

"Its sort of hard to explain, but I'll try," she started, buying time. Then she got an idea. "You have to stick it hard in both of the enemy's eyes. Hard, mind you."

"Wow," gasped Sam, who was really none to smart. "That's incredible. This will be so useful! Thank you, Milady, thank you!" He turned, positively beaming, to his companions and opened his mouth to further praise the generosity of the Lady of the Wood.

"Don't," said Aragorn before the words had begun to form in the fat Hobbit's throat. "We get it. She's great. She got you a cigarette butt. Now shut up and eat your potatoes." Sam gloomily hung his head, opened a bag of taters, and quietly munched on them.

"Since when have you used the term 'taters' to describe taters, Almighty Author?" Frodo queried.

"NO!" bellowed Kelly, but it was too late.

"Well, Pippin—" the Author began.

"I'm Frodo."  
"Erm, Frodo. Right. Anyway, I thought I would use the term 'taters' to avoid using the same word over and over again…"

"Oh crap," interrupted Kelly. "Does this mean that you're gonna go over the entire story and rewrite it just to get rid of repetitive words?"

"Of course not," the Author laughed. "I'm lazy!"

"CAN WE GET ON WITH THE CRAPPY STORY?!" yelled Boromir short-temperedly. The Author went silent for a moment. "And you're appearing waaaaaay to often," Borimir added. More uncomfortable silence. "What's happening?" Borimir said suddenly after a long period of utter stillness.

"The Author senses another case of writer's block coming on…" realized Merry, a chill running down his spine. He glanced around uneasily, the little hairs on the back of hi neck raising.

"What does that mean?" squeaked Sam, looking up from his potatoes in sudden fear.

"Well, several things could happen here," Aragorn breathed, almost scared of breaking the sudden and complete silence. "First, we may not be heard or seen of for a long, long time. Perhaps an indefinite span. And so we shall be lost in the endless void of Works Unfinished, a desperate land worse than death, not one of unfeeling decay rather non-existence."

"Ooh, that sounds pretty gnarly," observed Kelly.

"You're using big words," complained Sam.

Aragorn continued in the same spooky voice, "Or alternatively, the Author could write something a) stupid, b) boring, or c) both. Given the current conversation, I think it's going to be c)."

"Anyway, people," the Author interjected. Everyone jumped. "Let's get on with the story, shall we? Galadriel, take it from here."

Unannounced, the story began again. "Here," offered Galadriel, presenting a pile of grayish silver cloth. "Take these cloaks."

"Shiny," slobbered Frodo. "They'll go well with Precious."

"What are they made of?" asked Boromir as he received his. He marveled at its softness and fluid flow upon touching it.

"A wide variety of cute and furry woodland creatures," Galadriel purred indulgently. To Kelly, she handed a mildewed and black affair that stank of cats and dust mites. A moth ball fell out of the cloak. "You really did take a lot of my silverware."

Kelly reluctantly took it. It was damp and she felt a bat in one of its folds. "Right," she muttered under her breath. She had taken her fair share of forks and spoons.

Everyone else in the Fellowship took the good cloaks and happily flung them over their shoulders. Except Boromir did find one small problem.

"Uh, Galadriel?"

"What?"

"This is a dress."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. I ran out of cloaks. You'll just have to make do, I'm afraid." With that she turned to Gimli, Boromir unhappily donning the ankle-length dress at her back.

"Erm, I think you want a gift…" she said tentatively. "But I didn't really know what to get you, so could I…" Her voice briefly faded out, then she mustered the strength to continue. "So could I take any suggestions?" The Fellowship gasped in horror. Frodo covered his ears, not wanting to know what would come next.

"Well," Gimli began eagerly, "Can I have some of your under—" his words were cut mercifully short by a flying elbow to the ribs on Kelly's part. "I mean, could I have one or two of your panty—" Again Kelly's elbow saved the day. Things continued in this vain for some time until Gimli finally gave up and just asked for a few or Galadriel's golden hairs.

Still a little unnerved, Galadriel gave them to him. Lastly, she came to Aragorn. "Hey, you," she said. "Know your sweetie, Arwen? She wanted me to give you this." She handed him a note.

Aragorn slowly read it:

Dear Arry-poo,

Cheat on me and I'll kill you. I swear, if I hear so much as a whisper of a hint of a word that you're so much as THINKING about another woman, I will find you. And make your end really, really painful. And Daddy will help, because I'm his little girl. He got me a couple of assassins last year. Even as I write this, I am assembling a ninja death squad just in case. Don't make me use them. Don't cheat, honey-bunch, or you'll regret it.

Love,

Arwen

P.S. They have poison.

"How sweet," sighed Aragorn dreamily, staring up at the sky with a smile. "She cares." Then he frowned. "But now I'm scared."

"Why?" asked the others, having not read the note.

"Nothing, nothing," the ranger assured them. "Just tell me if you happen to see a ninja assassin or anything like that." That raised more than a few eyebrows. "Just afraid my girlfriend will kill me with a ninja death squad."

"Nice," said Kelly sarcastically.

'How hot," said Frodo. No one was quite sure if he was being sarcastic or not. As had occurred so many times, all went silent. Then—

"Let's throw the halfling into the river," said Legolas.

"Frodo, you should give me the Ring," said Boromir.

"We should throw _you _in, Legolas," said Kelly.

"Shut up, both of you," said Aragorn.

"I'll tell them to shut up," said Frodo. "Because I'm Ring Bearer and what I say goes!"

"Taters!" screeched Sam, digging back into his bag of tubers.

"Squirrel!" shrieked Pippin, running off to chase a squirrel.

"What is this, a gallery of our clichés and idiosyncrasies?" observed Merry.

"Toss the Halfling!"

"Give me the ring!"

"Toss Legolas!"

"Shut up!"

"I'm in charge!"

"Taters!"

"Squirrel!" Pippin cried through a mouth full of very alive squirrel.

Merry didn't say anything, just put his face in his hands. All through it, Lady Galadriel and her company stood staring, not quite sure what to make of the apparent insanity. Things only got worse.

"Throw!"

"Ring!"

"Legolas!"

"Shut—"

"Me!"

"Taters!"

"Squirrel!"

"HELP ME!!!" Merry screamed at the top of his small lungs. Everyone stopped and stared at the young Hobbit. "Boats. Now," he growled, pointing towards the crafts. "No speaking. In." No one in the Fellowship dared question that tone. They soberly strode down the sandy bank and uncomplainingly clambered into the little canoes, taking up the paddles.

Galadriel cleared her throat, blinked, and said, "Well, I guess I should send you all off with a song." She cleared her throat again as all the elves behind her plugged their ears with their fingers. The Fellowship got a bad feeling…

In a raspy voice that sounded like a toad with a glandular problem Galadriel sang:

"I sang of leaves, of leaves of mold—I mean, gold—Leaves of gold

leaves of gold leaves of gold leaves of gold leaves of gold leaves of gold

What-were-the-words-again? Oh, yeah, and leaves of gold there grew

And something-or-other about the wind that did blow through branches or something."

Here she briefly stopped in a fit of coughing. The Fellowship took advantage of the interruption to quietly begin paddling away.

"Beyond the Moon, beyond the Sun, a foam was on the sea (perhaps due to over-pollution)—"

She was interrupted again, except this time by her captain. "Two things. First, it's 'beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon' and secondly they're gone."

Indeed, the Fellowship was far, far down the Anduin.

"Darn it," she said. "They always get away."

Author's note: Sorry about the lack of updates. I'd like to add "writer's block" to the four great forces known to man.


End file.
